


I’ll Find a Way to Slip Into Your Skin, Somehow

by lesbianchiyo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Bittersweet Ending, Dubious Consent, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Murder Mystery, Non-Graphic Smut, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianchiyo/pseuds/lesbianchiyo
Summary: A mysterious death of Tsukishima's ex-lover leaves him searching for the clues that just aren't there.─Yamaguchi's left living a life behind boarded windows and locked doors after a mysterious death of his mother.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	1. Lilac.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thoxll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoxll/gifts).



> Wow another series, I know, I hate myself too. I will actually finish this one, either by the end of May or June. 
> 
> This is for my best friend who is always giving me amazing ideas, I always forget how good my stories are when they help me plan them out. 
> 
> This is a new style, it's not just romance. More of a psychological horror, but not really murder mystery, but not really fic. I don't know what to classify it as other than, oh my god this is going to be a shit show of angst, with a somewhat happy ending. *No Spoilers*

* * *

It had been a suicide. That’s what they had told him, the morning after, it had been a suicide. Yet, why was that the hardest thing for him to believe. He couldn’t believe it, there was no way for Tsukishima to believe it. It was the least believable thing he had even been told. _It had been a suicide._ He spent a week after that call searching everywhere he could think of, digging through every corner of his apartment. He was hoping, searching, praying for a clue, because it had not just been a suicide. It wasn’t possible, they had been smiling, laughing, kissing the corners of his mouth just hours before the disappearance. _And._ Tsukishima pulled a pile of jeans out of the drawers, throwing them to the ground. Hours before the disappearance there had been a call, a frown, anxious eyes and slow sex full of love. A ring on their finger and a kiss pressed against the corner of Tsukishima’s lips and they were gone leaving nothing but a small trace of Chapstick and all their clothes.

He wasn’t allowed to see the body, he wasn’t allowed a funeral, there was no final farewell or cold shaky hands pressing against a coffin. There were no hugs, no encouraging words from friends or family. He wasn’t allowed anything, but the five words, _it had been a suicide._ He was sure their family gave them a funeral; he was sure everyone else around him had gotten to say goodbye or press their fingers against the coffin. Tsukishima wasn’t allowed anything; other than the words it had been a suicide. Tsukishima cleaned out another drawer, searching the pockets of every pant insight. Nothing, where was the letter? Tsukishima lowered himself to the ground, throwing another pile of clothes onto the floor. His apartment was far from clean, it was more than messy, it was a disaster.

With a shaky hand he brushed his bangs from his forehead, his hair was longer than usual. He kept it trimmed, blond hair kept close to his head. Yet, his bangs hung in front of his eyes, sides passing the tips of his ears. There was no way they would have left without a letter, right? Tsukishima buried his head in his hands, eyes stinging. He wasn’t much a crier, he wasn’t much of anything, yet the boringness that made Tsukishima, Tsukishima had made them smile. It had made them love him, kiss him and let him bury himself inside. Right now Tsukishima didn’t feel like Tsukishima, he didn’t feel much of anything. Eyes stinging, hair long, glasses covered in fingerprints. Everything about him was so unlike Tsukishima. He pulled open another drawer, a tear fell from his waterline. _Where was the letter?_ Tsukishima threw a pile of sock onto the floor. _Where was the letter?_ A handful of shirts. _Where was the letter?_ And finally Tsukishima pushed a pile of folded underwear to the side. There poking out of the corner was a small piece of paper. It was purple, Tsukishima ripped it out from the drawer. _The letter._ His heart dropped; it was nothing but a business card.

The business card was small, smaller than the palm of his hand. The corners were painted a lilac, like splotches of watercolor, an ombré up towards the center. The colors dispersed around the lettering; **YAMAGUCHI INCORPORATION**. Tsukishima rubbed at his watery eyes, he had never heard of Yamaguchi Incorporation and even if he had, it would just be another company, another _useless_ company. Most companies nowadays were useless. He flipped the card over, the ombré covered the whole backside, leaving just enough space for a small symbol of a quill and a number. The tip of the quill was dripping inc, drawing the letters _YI_ and underneath it the number burned into Tsukishima’s head. _The call?_ No, he was going insane, there was no way he would remember the number that had popped up. He was too busy pressing his hands against their cheeks, too busy pressing a kiss to their nose, too busy watching their smile falter. He pulled his knees to his chest holding the business card in front of his face. Just like the day before he hadn’t found anything, they really had left without a letter or maybe, maybe there was a letter and Tsukishima just wasn’t allowed to see it.

Tsukishima leaned back, laying across the floor kicking away piles of clothes with his feet. It would make sense, after all Tsukishima wasn’t allowed to see anything about them, so of course he wouldn’t be able to see their letter. He held the business card above his face again. _Yamaguchi._ The name was so familiar, Tsukishima felt it pressing against his lips, where had he heard it? Or had he heard it at all? Maybe he knew someone named Yamaguchi, he had known many kids with many different names. It wouldn’t be weird for the name Yamaguchi to slip in. _But._ Tsukishima rolled over onto his side, the name rolled off his tongue and past his lips. _“Yamaguchi.”_ His eyes fluttered shut, he was certain he had heard it, not during school, but this month, these past months.

Tsukishima’s chest fell with a sigh, his brain swirling. Soft fingertips tracing against his, lips pressing against the corner of his mouth, warm. _“Yamaguchi.”_ Phone pressed against their ear, back and forth, back and forth. He had watched from the bed, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose, back and forth, back and forth. _“Yamaguchi just talk to h—”_ Tsukishima sat up, head spinning, he flipped the card over again. Where was his phone?

His living room was trashed, his bookshelf ripped apart, tv unplugged. He kept the business card in his hands, flipping it back and forth, back and forth. He found his phone stuffed beneath a pillow. He didn’t have any notifications, of course he didn’t. _“Yamaguchi.”_ Tsukishima bit his tongue, flipping the card over. He stared at the number, unsure of what to do. The answer was clear, he was just _scared._ Such a thing as being scared was so unlike Tsukishima.

He placed the phone to his ear, it rang, loudly; he trailed a finger up to press down on the volume button. The ringing stopped, Tsukishima’s breath caught in his throat, before it started to ring again. _Ring, ring, ring, ri—_

“Are you calling for the job?”

Tsukishima’s heart skipped a beat, his mouth dry; tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. _The job? The job?_ Tsukishima untacked his tongue, running it against his bottom lip before speaking,

“T-he job?” His voice was unstable, deep, nothing more than a croak. His mouth felt insanely dry, the woman on the other side of the line went quiet, he held his breath.

“Yes, the job, why else would you be calling?” The woman sounded annoyed, voice stern, “Or do you need some office supplies?”

It was Tsukishima’s turn to go quiet. He didn’t necessarily need a job, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. They must be desperate if that’s the first thing they say when they pick up the phone, but what if--

“What’s t-the job?” Tsukishima ran his tongue over his bottom lip, before worrying it between his teeth. The woman sighed,

“Yamaguchi is currently looking for a full-time night worker.” The woman paused; Tsukishima heard shuffling from the other line. “A hundred dollars a night, can be more if you’re a good enough worker.”

Tsukishima didn’t necessarily need a job, but he wasn’t against getting one either.

“What w-would I do?” He was mildly interested; the name Yamaguchi was so familiar. It had been important to them; he was sure of it. Maybe he was just going insane, maybe it was just a business card that had slipped into the dresser, just a random business card? Maybe he had heard them wrong? Or maybe he was just so desperate to get answers he was imagining all of this?

“You’d get a room and you’d watch the cameras, it’s a full-time job.” The woman didn’t seem as interested as Tsukishima, her tone was less stern now, more bored than anything.

“H-how do I apply?” His heart skipped a beat, maybe he should just hang up? But he was already in so deep.

“Name?” The woman shuffled around on the other side.

“Tsukishima Kei.” Tsukishima’s breath caught in his throat; he was in far to deep to back out now. Yamaguchi had a meaning, it was important, it had to be.

“Your number has been saved,” The woman paused, more shuffling, “You’ll receive a call with an interview time within one week, please go to our website and fill out the application there.” The woman paused again, “You are allowed one reschedule if the time we give you is inconvenient.”

Tsukishima was quiet for a second, “O-okay, sounds good.”


	2. Olive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W : CHILD ABUSE 
> 
> •Marvin is a character from the book Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, he's a depressed robot. 
> 
> Playlist ;   
> Crush by Cigarettes After Sex
> 
> Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood
> 
> Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood
> 
> Are You Bored Yet by Wallows
> 
> Scrawny by Wallows
> 
> Talk to Me by Cavetown
> 
> Just Add Water by Cavetown
> 
> 888 by Cavetown
> 
> Bandaids by Keshi
> 
> Skeletons by Keshi
> 
> [more songs to come]

* * *

It had been a suicide, that’s what he said and that’s what he continued to say. Every morning the lock clicked, his father would hug him and apologize and then say _it had been a suicide_. Yamaguchi didn’t know whether to believe it or not, at first, after his mother had disappeared and then reappeared Yamaguchi had believed the words; _it had been a suicide_. Until the funeral came, after the sight he couldn’t believe it was a suicide, there was no way his mother—Yamaguchi buried his head into the book in his hands. The walls seemed to grow closer every day, the light blue becoming more confining then comforting.

His room used to be a place he found comfort, a safe place he could escape to when the house felt too big. A safe place to run to after a strong hand pulled him down the stairs; the third floors off limits. A safe place to sit behind a locked door when the screaming, the yelling grew too loud they were suffocating. A place he could lock himself away in, hide from the hands grabbing at him. It protected him from the bruises, but now it didn’t do any of that.

His room kept him in place, it left him vulnerable to his father’s strong hands. Yamaguchi pulled the sheets around him closer, tighter. His wrists still shone red; the indents of his fingerprints evident. He had just wanted to go for a walk, he had begged _“please daddy.”_ His fathers’ eyes had changed from the normal brown, to an almost olive color, lips pursed the tip of his tongue sticking out from the corner. Yamaguchi knew that face, how could he not remember the face of the man who had pushed him backwards down the stairs; how could he forget the anger glazed eyes that had dragged him by his hair to his room. His father hadn’t spoken a word, instead with a flare of his nostrils had had stood up, grabbing Yamaguchi’s wrists squeezing; letting the anger he would of usually hit Yamaguchi with to instead bruise his wrists.

_“I already told you, Tadashi.”_ His father had dropped his left wrist to instead grab at his face; chin bruising. _“You are not allowed out of this house,”_ His father paused, tightening his grip he dragged Yamaguchi up to his room—breakfast completely forgotten. _“better yet, not allowed out of your room.”_ Those were the last words his father had said to him, locking his room leaving Yamaguchi alone; wrists and chin bruised. Those had also been the last words his mother had told him, pressing her lips against his forehead. _“Stay in your room, Tadashi, please.”_ She had pulled him into her chest, arms strong pressing another kiss behind his ear, _“And listen to your father.”_

Yamaguchi worried his bottom lip, holding it in place, keeping it from wobbling. How long had it been since breakfast? Two hours, forty minutes, maybe? He had lost all sense of time, the only thing telling him it was still day was the small crack in the window, the small opening where a little bit of the sun peaked through; the small place the wood didn’t cover. Yamaguchi felt like Marvin—a forgotten depressed android with no will to live, yet Marvin wasn’t always forgotten and that was the part Yamaguchi couldn’t relate to. Yamaguchi felt like he was always forgotten, unlike Marvin who was help to the people around him, Yamaguchi was no help at all. Unless annoying his father was help. The walls drew closer, the hum of the air conditioning starting up.

When was the last time Yamaguchi had seen someone who wasn’t his father? It was—Yamaguchi used the corner of the sheets to rub at his watery eyes. The day of his mother’s funeral, the worst day of his life. His mother’s funeral was even more depressing than Yamaguchi finding out she had died, his mother deserved better. Deserved more than a cold brown coffin, deserved more than a bouquet of olive flowers; olive flowers. His mother had always loved olives; the color, the fruit, Yamaguchi hated olives. His mother would tell him about how she fell in love with his father’s olive eyes, Yamaguchi’s eyes stung. His mother’s funeral was sad, so, so sad.

His grandmother had showed up, a sour look upon her face as she stared down at her daughter’s coffin. Yamaguchi watched from afar as the old woman ran a hand against the polished wood, lips pursed, eyes soft, sad. His grandmother was a strong, stern woman, she was old fashioned, Yamaguchi had never seen her eyes so _sad_ , so _soft_. His father had talked and talked, hunched over in the corner with his brother. Yamaguchi had stayed far away from everyone, escaping to brush against the coffin when most of the family had dispersed into whispering conversations. There were more flowers laying on top than when he had arrived, they were all pretty shades of green.

The coffin had been cold, cold and smooth. His suit had been far too tight, and his heart had been far to heavy. His grandmother had joined him next to the coffin placing her bony, thin hands atop his. They had stayed like that, quiet, hands pressed against the cool wood of the coffin. His breath came out in rough gasps, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. His mother deserved better, his mother deserved a better funeral, with more people who cared.

_“Your mother lived a filling life,”_ His grandmothers voice was rough, thick in the air, swimming around Yamaguchi’s head, _“her olive tree in the yard is blooming.”_ The comment hung in the air, Yamaguchi’s hand shook under his grandmothers’ hand, she inched closer shoulders pressing against his. _“she loves you.”_ Yamaguchi didn’t say anything, he let his grandmother embrace him in a cold embrace; he missed his mother’s warm embrace. _“you’re the best thing that ever happened to her.”_ Yamaguchi’s shoulders shook, he pressed his other hand against the coffin leaning down—he pressed his forehead against the cool polished wood, his grandmother’s hand fell upon the top of his head, fingers running through his hair.

He didn’t remember how long he had stayed like that, forehead pressed against her coffin, shoulders shaking tears dripping upon the wood. The drive home had made the day even worse, tucked into the back-seat head banging against the window, his father’s humming from beside him. His eyes were olive, Yamaguchi closed his eyes. The color olive made him sick, twisted his stomach, he pictured his mother’s olive tree. Every two years Yamaguchi would take a trip down to his grandmother’s farm, he’d stay there with his mother and his father for two weeks. Homemade pancakes, horse back riding and fruit picking. A break from the city life, his favorite time of the year, he would look forward to it. There’s was nothing to look forward to anymore.

Yamaguchi heard the front door open; he heard the loud sound of his father’s shuffling shoes, the whispering. He must be on the phone, Yamaguchi escaped under the covers—book forgotten on the edge of his bed. He had already read it; it didn’t interest him anymore. His father’s voice grew loud, his feet shuffling against the carpet. His father didn’t stop outside his door like he normally did, instead he passed it. Yamaguchi heard him climb up the stairs to the third floor, the forbidden floor. Yamaguchi stayed under the covers, lips pressed together, air whistling from his nose. Yamaguchi missed the warm hugs from his mother.


	3. Lemon Bars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist ;
> 
> Crush by Cigarettes After Sex
> 
> Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood
> 
> Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood
> 
> Are You Bored Yet by Wallows
> 
> Scrawny by Wallows
> 
> Talk to Me by Cavetown
> 
> Just Add Water by Cavetown
> 
> 888 by Cavetown
> 
> Bandaids by Keshi
> 
> Skeletons by Keshi
> 
> Living Island by Pogo

* * *

Yamaguchi Incorporation was located downtown, just at the start of the city. Tsukishima parked his car a few blocks away an anxious feeling eating at him. He had cleaned himself up, gotten a haircut and after multiple breakdowns finally put his apartment back together. It had been a rough week and Tsukishima had gotten a call with the interview one early Saturday morning for the same day, he was in too deep to take back the offer so here he was standing at the front desk in a huge company that sold _office supplies._

The woman sitting behind the desk had an uninterested look on her face, she shuffled through a stack of papers not having noticed Tsukishima standing in front of her. The main lobby smelled of lemon and something sweet; Tsukishima eyed the plate of lemon bars. It was a couple more awkward minutes until the woman looked up, eyes wide and mouth falling open,

“I’m so sorry, sir.” She smiled up at him, “Sometimes I just get so distracted.”

“It’s okay,” Tsukishima didn’t smile, but he made his tone more friendly, the woman’s smile grew even wider; if that was even possible.

“Can I help you with anything? I can hook you up with our number one salesman, I’m sure you heard of him Daichi Sawamura, he can get you all the office supplies you need for a great price.” The woman crossed her arms in front of her, Tsukishima could see her gums and all,

“Actually, I’m here for an interview.” Tsukishima rubbed at the back of his neck, he had put on his best clothes for today, black slacks and a light green button up – they had loved that shirt, Tsukishima’s mouth tasted sour. The woman’s smile fell,

“An interview?” Her voice was quiet, she dug around behind the counter shifting through a stack of papers, her smile came back a couple seconds later. “Ahhh Tsukishima Kei, right?” Tsukishima’s mouth felt dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, he nodded. “Help yourself to some lemon bars, Mr. Tsukishima,” The woman’s smile grew, “There’s coffee over there—” She pointed to a small station in the corner where a Keurig sat along with some paper cups, “Someone will be down in a couple minutes to accompany you to Mr. Yamaguchi’s office.” Tsukishima nodded, doing exactly what she told him.

The lemon bars were gooey, the sides sticking to his fingers. He always liked lemon flavored things, “It’s because you’re so mean.” Tsukishima smiled softly; he took a seat in a small leather armchair. There were only three people in the main lobby, the secretary, Tsukishima and a lanky man who was sitting in the corner of a leather couch nose deep in a volleyball magazine black hair falling over his eyes. Tsukishima shook his head, _way to look unprofessional_. The lemon bar tasted as good as it looked, sweet, with a tinge of sourness. It cleared the bad taste from Tsukishima’s mouth leaving behind sickly sweet saliva.

The main lobby was spacious, a small table for coffee supplies, a small sitting area with two leather couches and two leather armchairs. There was a door behind the front desk with the big bold words **STAIRS** and three elevators against the wall parallel to the entrance. One of the elevators made a ding, it echoed around the lobby, the doors opening slowly to reveal a tall lanky male with long brown hair tied up in a bun. He had a tight black suit and a clean shaved face, he walked with professionalism; yet there was still some nervousness about him. He had a small smile painted across his face as he leaned over to talk to the secretary—who’s cheeks were turning pink. Tsukishima bit the inside of his cheek, his mouth still tasted sweet; he missed their shy smiles. It was a couple minutes before the male turned around, he stared right at Tsukishima—the nervousness about him grew as he made his way over to Tsukishima.

“Tsukishima Kei?” The male’s voice was deep, husky, it echoed around the lobby. The other man, who had been busy reading a volleyball magazine looked up—watching them interact. Tsukishima nodded. “Azumane Asahi,” He held out his hand, Tsukishima shook it nervously; his fingers were still sticky. “If you would follow me.” Tsukishima followed Azumane towards the elevator, they were quiet until the door opened. A shorter woman her blonde hair tied in a side ponytail brushed past them and towards the exit. Azumane didn’t say anything even after the button for the fourth floor was pressed and they started to ascend. He didn’t speak until the elevator doors opened to reveal a very busy hall, people everywhere; phones pressed against their ears or carrying around boxes of office supplies.

“I wouldn’t be nervous,” Azumane lead Tsukishima passed a stack of boxes and around the corner, “Yamaguchi’s about to hire anybody, I feel bad for his son.” Azumane’s voice was sad, Tsukishima only nodded. They stopped in front of two large wood doors, there was a gold plate in the middle; **YAMAGUCHI**. Azumane raised a fist to the door, knocking softly. There was shuffling from behind the door before a rough voice called out,

“Come in,”

Azumane pressed a firm hand against Tsukishima’s shoulder, pushing him forward with a small smile, “Good luck.” Tsukishima didn’t stay anything; he watched the back of Azumane’s head disappear back down the corner. There was more shuffling from behind the door, along with some deep grumbling.

“Are you coming in or wh—” The man who opened the door was tall with a small beer belly, his face wrinkled and kept cleanly shaved. He was balding, yet still had a head full of thin brown hair. Tsukishima stared at him with wide eyes, “Oh, I’m sorry I thought you were someone else.” The man opened the door more, leaving room for Tsukishima to enter, who did. “Yamaguchi Satsujin.” The man held his hand out, Tsukishima took it lightly. “Have a seat, have a seat.” Yamaguchi Satsujin hurried over to his desk, the door closing loudly behind him. Tsukishima took a seat in a small leather chair in front of the desk, Yamaguchi Satsujin sat down lacing his fingers together leaning forward on the desk. “Tsukishima Kei, right?” Tsukishima nodded; Yamaguchi Satsujin leaned back. “You know what the jobs about, right?”

“A little bit, I know I’d be spending every night at your place.” Tsukishima ran his hands across his slacks, “Is that correct?”

Yamaguchi Satsujin was quiet for a second, “Yes and No.” He leaned forward against the desk again, arms crossed against it—his elbow pushing at an ash tray. “You’d be living at my place, but, if you can only do nights then I could get a day worker.” Tsukishima thought for a second, he didn’t need a job—but the name Yamaguchi was important, it was so important he needed this job.

“No, that’s okay I can do nights and days.” Tsukishima pulled at the collar of his shirt, Yamaguchi Satsujin watched him with squinted eyes,

“That was my wife’s favorite color.” The comment hung in the air, Tsukishima’s hands frozen at his collar, his breath stuttered,

“Ahh yes, it, it is a nice color.” His heart hammered against his chest, it was their favorite color too, it was a bitter thought, the residue from the lemon bars turned rotten.

“Ahh yes, my wife, she loved olives, we would go to her mother’s farm on the countryside every year—or was it two years?” Yamaguchi Satsujin pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, along with a lighter, “I guess it doesn’t matter. You mind if I smoke?” Tsukishima shook his head, Yamaguchi Satsujin placed the cigarette between his lips—smoke flew up from the tip once he lighted it. He breathed in, then removed it with his pointer and middle finger, smoke escaping from his nose and mouth. “It’s an easy job, really. Just watch the cameras, you’d get your own room on the third floor.” Tsukishima nodded; Yamaguchi Satsujin tapped the cigarette against the side of the ash tray. “You’d be watching my son; he stays in his room for the most part—just watch him.” Another puff of smoke few from his mouth, the room was starting to smell. “He’s pulled stunts before, but that was a year ago when his mother was alive—he climbed out the window; broke his arm, poor boy.” Yamaguchi Satsujin’s voice was awfully sour, bitter, full of hate and disinterest. “He’s not allowed up on the third floor, he won’t know you’re there and he shouldn’t find out.”

“So, I’d just be monitoring cameras?” Tsukishima eyes the small hole in the desk, it looked like a burn mark—as if someone left a cigarette pressed against the top. Yamaguchi Satsujin hummed.

“Yes, he’s usually locked in his room—do feel free to sleep when you get tired.” Yamaguchi Satsujin pressed the tip of the cigarette into the ash tray, his eyes glazed over; they were a brown, almost olive color. Tsukishima nodded; he didn’t know what to say. Yamaguchi Satsujin stood up, his cheery attitude he had when Tsukishima arrived gone. “You’ll receive a call with more information later.” Tsukishima stood up, hands hanging loosely at his side,

“Did I—”

_“Yes, you got the job.”_


	4. Strawberry Cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W : CHILD ABUSE
> 
> Playlist;
> 
> Crush by Cigarettes After Sex
> 
> Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood
> 
> Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood
> 
> Are You Bored Yet by Wallows
> 
> Scrawny by Wallows
> 
> Talk to Me by Cavetown
> 
> Just Add Water by Cavetown
> 
> 888 by Cavetown
> 
> Bandaids by Keshi
> 
> Skeletons by Keshi
> 
> Living Island by Pogo
> 
> What You Know by Two Doors Cinema Club
> 
> Grind Me Down by Lilianna Wilde [Jawster Remix]
> 
> ily (i love you baby) by Surf Mesa (ft. Emilee)

* * *

_“Yes, it’s him, I’m sure of it.”_

Yamaguchi’s father passed his door again, just like the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that. He no longer had breakfast with his father, or spent the afternoons making dinner. Instead he was locked in his room with the dozens of books he had already read, and the crack in the wood that seemed to mock him. Remind him of the outside world, the world that was so close yet so far away. It was torture, hearing the neighborhood kids laughing, screaming outside—Yamaguchi missed playing outside. He missed talking to other children; a privileged he lost when he turned ten. _“You’re old enough to start homeschooling.”_

Yamaguchi had spent elementary school in a small private catholic school, it was a place where everyone knew each other—it was such a small school. It had been his best and worst days, he had made _‘friends’_ , or at least his mother had called them his friends; the bullies who pestered him every day, shoved him in the hallway and stole his toys during recess were what his mother had called friends; of course she didn’t know what they did to him, he didn’t want to tell her. Especially not his father, his father would be disappointed— _a man does not get bullied._

He had smiled and laughed and held hands with his first ever _boyfriend_. A small boy with bright orange hair held Yamaguchi’s hand everyday during recess, he would stand up for Yamaguchi—whenever the bullies came around for the toy stealing. His name had been Hinata Shouyou, and Yamaguchi had loved him; it all came crashing down one Thursday morning when a teacher saw them holding hands. She had pulled them apart, saying that wasn’t appropriate; boys don’t hold hands with other boys. Yamaguchi remembered Hinata’s face, how his cheeks had puffed up; red like strawberries. How he had pushed his small body past the teachers looming body, reaching out to slip his fingers through Yamaguchi’s. His hands had been soft, tiny fingers hidden my Yamaguchi’s bigger ones. The teacher had stared at them, mouth falling open and with a shake of her head she had stalked off. Hinata had smile, large a wide smile; gums showing and all. His cheeks had been red, puffed out and pulling Yamaguchi’s hand against his chest he pushed himself up on the tip of his toes to press a big wet kiss against Yamaguchi’s cheek—both unaware of the teacher’s watchful gaze.

When Yamaguchi got home, his parents had called him to the kitchen; a plate of apple slices and peanut butter along with deep frowns. They had waited for him to start snacking, biting down in the middle of an apple slice. His mother had started, voice low leaning against the island to look at Yamaguchi.

“Your teacher called.”

Yamaguchi had spoke with a mouthful of apples, cheeks puffed up—red with the memory of Hinata’s kiss. “R-really!” His mother nodded, “Mm got a ten on my spellin’ test,” He had held up his fingers smiling, “That means mm got everything right!” His mother nodded again, his father at stared down at him with his anger glazed olive eyes, leaning over the island to grab at Yamaguchi’s face; chin held in the palm of his father’s hand.

“She said you were holding hands with a boy,” His father had paused, squeezing harder, his skin blooming red. “And,” Yamaguchi’s mouth had been dry, the apple slices in his mouth rotten, “She said the boy kissed you.” His mother wasn’t looking at him, she was staring anywhere but Yamaguchi.

“It’s just Hinata, daddy.” Yamaguchi had lifted a hand to pull at his father’s fingers, struggling to swallow the rotten apple slices in his mouth. He had had the worst beating of his life that day, strong hands pulling at his hair, grabbing at his face, slapping against his back. He never went back to school after that; he wondered what happened to Hinata. He hoped he was okay, happy and smiling with his bright strawberry red cheeks.

“Tadashi?”

There was a knock on his door, before the lock clicked the door opening just a smidge, enough for his dad to stick his head in. Yamaguchi’s mouth felt dry, memories of that day flooding his mind—he missed Hinata, he missed his mom, “Y-yeah.” He pulled the sheets tighter, bringing his knees to his chest.

“I need to set something up in here.” His father pushed the door open fully, it hit the wall behind it—the knob falling into the dent. He had a cardboard box under one arm, a small ladder under the next.

“O-okay should I—”

“No, just stay there.” His father dragged the ladder over to the corner in Yamaguchi’s room, setting it up; it creaked loudly. He then got to work ripping open the cardboard box, Yamaguchi’s chest felt tight.

“What’s t-that?”

His father looked at him with his anger glazed olive eyes, _“It’s a camera.”_


	5. Familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W : CHILD ABUSE
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos! I love waking up to comments, they really motivate me so keep em coming jwgskahak
> 
> Playlist;
> 
> Crush by Cigarettes After Sex 
> 
> Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood 
> 
> Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood 
> 
> Are You Bored Yet by Wallows 
> 
> Scrawny by Wallows 
> 
> Talk to Me by Cavetown 
> 
> Just Add Water by Cavetown 
> 
> 888 by Cavetown 
> 
> Bandaids by Keshi
> 
> Skeletons by Keshi
> 
> Living Island by Pogo
> 
> What You Know by Two Doors Cinema Club
> 
> Grind Me Down by Lilianna Wilde [Jawster Remix]
> 
> ily (i love you baby) by Surf Mesa (ft. Emilee) 
> 
> Tired by Beabadoobee

* * *

Tsukishima had never seen a house so big, three stories—the outside was a soft yellow, windowsills lined with potted plants, while roses bloomed on each side of the steps; white roses. The front door was larger than Tsukishima, stained glass birds mocking the top of his head. Tsukishima felt nervous, there was something so familiar about this place—as if he had been here before, yet he couldn’t find a memory. With a shaky hand he pressed down on the doorbell, he could hear it playing from outside; a loud jingle. The front door opened shortly after, Yamaguchi Satsujin stood in the doorway his lips twisted into a grin, eyes brown with a tinge of olive.

“Kei, come on in, come on in.” Yamaguchi Satsujin moved to the side, holding the door open with strong hands, Tsukishima entered—so familiar. The entrance opened to the living room, two large brown couches and a grand piano; there were pictures on the mantle above the fireplace, each one turned down. The house was even bigger on the inside, the walls turning from yellow to different shades of green; it was dusty, he could see the layers of dust covering counter tops and picture frames.

“Sorry for the intrusion, Mr. Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima followed Yamaguchi Satsujin around a corner, down a hall, past two closets and a bathroom and then up a huge spiraling staircase.

“Please, call me Satsujin.” Satsujin pushed open a door, before turning down another hall—unlike the rest of the house this hallway was dimly lit, leading only to another set of stairs. Tsukishima’s legs burned with the extra effort, really, this house was too big. The staircase lead to a small cramped hallway lined with boxes—there were three doors. One, Satsujin said was off limits, two, a closet and three, Tsukishima’s new room.

“So, Satsujin.” Tsukishima stood awkwardly in the doorway watching Satsujin pull a pair of sheets out of a small closet. “This is just a tester?” Satsujin placed a pair of sheets on the mattress; it was just a mattress on the floor.

“Yes, just incase this job isn’t for you.” Satsujin smile was strained, Tsukishima could see right through it; his eyes were glazed over, an olive color. “Starting tonight, I will be working overtime at the corporation.” Tsukishima nodded, Satsujin strained his smile even more, turning around to fiddle with the desk full of monitors, with a click they flashed on—grainy images from all around the house, Tsukishima inched forward. “That,” Satsujin placed a finger against the screen in the middle, Tsukishima could make out a small outline of a person, they were sprawled on the floor a what looked like a book held above their head, “Is my son.” Tsukishima nodded dryly, Satsujin slapped a large strong hand against Tsukishima’s shoulder, his smile was gone leaving behind nothing but glazed olive eyes. Tsukishima cleared his throat,

“Is that,” He paused, staring down at the screen again—the boy had moved, standing in front of a large window; was that wood? Tsukishima couldn’t tell, “all?” Satsujin’s lips turned into a once again strained smile.

“I’ll leave you to get comfortable then.”

And with that, Satsujin disappeared leaving Tsukishima alone.

The room was cramped, a small shallow closet next to the door, a mattress on the floor and the desk full of monitors—it didn’t leave much leg room and with a sigh Tsukishima fell into the desk chair. It was an uncomfortable chair, a hump on the back keeping Tsukishima from slouching. _What was he doing?_ Tsukishima rubbed at his eyes, glasses pushing up his bangs. Warm fingers tracing the curve of his jaw, sliding down to pull at his loose t-shirt. Soft lips pressing under his ear, before kissing down his neck—he groaned, leaning his head back. He pushed a hand between his thigh, eyes hooded he watched the monitors. The boy was sitting in front of the door, it was open now and Tsukishima saw Satsujin from both angles—two cameras showing the same thing. There was no sound and the grainy images moved with a lag, but Tsukishima didn’t miss the hand the slammed against skin. So vivid, so detailed on the screen he could almost hear an impact. Tsukishima’s mouth felt dry, he watched Satsujin close his son’s bedroom door before, with slow lagging movements, he passed out the door head disappearing behind the stain glass windows.

Tsukishima’s hand hovered over the mouse, he leaned forward using an elbow to prop himself up. The boy was as stunned as Tsukishima was, hand against his cheek; still sitting in front of the door. Or was he frozen? All Tsukishima’s questions were answered when the boy moved, throwing himself on the bed in the middle of the room—Tsukishima saw multiple books fall to the floor. All the movements on the camera were stuttered, lagging for just a second.

Nothing had happened, really, Tsukishima had seen parents hit their kids—he had multiple times and multiple times he had agreed, _that child was annoying._ And, it wasn’t illegal to hit your kid with an open hand, so there was nothing wrong with it. But. Tsukishima’s thoughts stuttered, this one felt like he was getting himself into so much more.


	6. Fingerprints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bolded songs help set the mood*
> 
> Crush by Cigarettes After Sex 
> 
> Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood 
> 
> Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood
> 
> Are You Bored Yet by Wallows 
> 
> Scrawny by Wallows 
> 
> Talk to Me by Cavetown 
> 
> Just Add Water by Cavetown 
> 
> 888 by Cavetown 
> 
> Bandaids by Keshi
> 
> Skeletons by Keshi
> 
> Living Island by Pogo 
> 
> What You Know by Two Doors Cinema Club
> 
> Grind Me Down by Lilianna Wilde [Jawster Remix]
> 
> ily (i love you baby) by Surf Mesa (ft. Emilee) 
> 
> Tired by Beabadoobee
> 
> _**Ropes by Scott James** _

* * *

It was hard to breathe; it was always hard to breathe. His breath felt trapped, lodged between his throat, chest tight as he tried to push it out, bring more air in. He stuffed his head under his pillow, it was cool, pressing against his stinging cheek. He heard the front door close, the lock turning. Yamaguchi would starve again, probably for two days, until his father was done with his _“attitude”_. Yamaguchi didn’t know what attitude he was talking about, he just asked when he’d be home again, what the camera was for, simple questions like that. His father said he had an attitude and he shouldn’t be prying; _it’s none of your business._

Yamaguchi sat up, turning to face the small camera in the corner. It made him feel…unsafe. He sucked in another breath of air, this one getting stuck with the breath still trying to escape, he pressed a finger to his neck—pressing at his pulse. Fast and hard it pounded against the tip of his fingers; the camera mocked him even more than the crack in the wood. It was too much, tightened his chest and throat, it dug a hole in the pit of his stomach.

What was beyond the camera, who was behind it, watching his every move? Was it his father? It made sense, Yamaguchi pressed against his chest forcing a breath out and another one in. He missed his mom; he needed his mom. Soft fingers tracing through his hair, he pulled at a strand of his hair—shaggy and brown and it looked too much like his fathers, too light to be his mothers.

The light beyond to wood mocked him again, pressing through the cracks to paint a line of sunlight against the floor, the walls grew tighter, the light blue pressing against every side of him. He needed to get out of here, he pressed down harder on his chest, forcing air out and in. out and in, out and in. Yamaguchi took a wobbly step forward, tugging at the top drawer of his dresser.

Clothes pressed to the top, getting stuck in the side—he ran his hands across, pushing tank tops and socks to the side. It was hidden in the corner, pressed beneath a tan tank top and a pair of red socks. It was bumpy rough against his fingers; the bobby pin useless, bent in different angles. He hid it in the palm of his hands, closing his fingers around it in a small fist.

When was the last time he had done this, so trapped in the world of his mind he needed to escape? Maybe it was when he was thirteen, locked in his room after a bad grade, he had been sick—stomach uneasy, parents away, gone somewhere for dinner. He had spent twenty minutes digging around in his bathroom, for anything that could pry the lock open—a bobby pin hidden in the back of the medicine cabinet, lodged between his toothbrush holder and a bottle of mouthwash.

Yamaguchi nervously looked up at the camera, a red blinking light stared back at him. He pressed at his chest with his fist, forcing air out and back in, before turning towards the door. He tested the handle, pulling twisting against the cool metal—the gold paint chipping under his fingertips, before twisting the bobby pin, just a little bit more to the right, pulling it apart so he could push it into the handle. He wiggled it around, pushing it in until it reached the curve of the bobby pin; unable to go in any further.

He moved it around, swishing, pressing it in; twisting the knob—there was low click, he felt it before he heard it and with one last twist of the handle his bedroom door swung open. The hallway outside his room was quiet, the last light of the day shining in from the stain glass front doors, Yamaguchi sucked in a deep breath. It was easier to breath standing in his open doorway, his chest still tight with nerves, but he could breath and he sucked in a couple deep breaths as he held onto the doorframe.

Outside his bedroom felt foreign, the house too big, too quiet. It had never been this quiet and Yamaguchi hated to admit it, he hated to think about how much he missed the yelling the screaming, because even if they hurt, they filled the empty open space with hot air. The house was too cold now, empty space left bare. The hallways stretched on, twisting and turning like a maze, Yamaguchi ran his hands against the walls—something that would of gotten him in trouble for. _“Tadashi! You’ll leave fingerprints!”_ His mother would wail, pulling him away before scrubbing at the walls. Yamaguchi smiled bitterly at the memory; his mother always seemed afraid, no matter what Yamaguchi did. He could have been doing something nice, like the time he had dried to bake his mother a cake for her birthday. Hinata had given him the recipe, the screaming had been the worst that night.

His breathing echoed around the living room, it’s ceilings high. The curtains were drawn, pulled shut and clipped in the middle, he pulled at the base of one, slipping under to press his hands against the glass, lean forward and touch his nose to it; staining the window with fog. He rubbed it away with his palm, before slipping back under the curtains. It felt even colder now, the sun dropping away. The house smelled musty, when had it started to smell; Yamaguchi rubbed at his eyes. He felt cold, the house felt too big, and his room felt too small.

The fireplace was closed off, a blanket hung over the front. It had been like that for years; his mother had been afraid of Yamaguchi climbing inside, so his father at hung a blanket over it. Above the fireplace the old family photographs were turned down. He picked on up, careful not to smudge the front—his mother had always been a clean freak. Everyday his mother would dust the fireplace about twice a day, sometimes more.

His eyes stung, the photograph was blurry—taken fast, during a middle of a temper tantrum, his father gripping his arm while his mother held him around the waist trapping him in her lap. Even in the grainy black and white picture he could see how pretty his mother was, young, freckles covering her cheeks, dipping under her chin and across her chest. His father looked young too, head full of dark hair—eyebrows creased smiling a tight _fake_ smile. Yamaguchi could picture the olive eyes. His mother had fallen in love with his angry eyes, his anger glazed _olive_ eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, it's not even a good chapter. this fic will get better I promise, I know it's a bit slow and boring right now, but i have a lot planned! even if it takes me awhile to update.


	7. Here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i changed some of the tags. i added an age difference tag and the rape/dub con. i only did that because of the age gap tsukki and yama have — which hasn't been mentioned, but i'll mention it now. yama is 16, tsukki is 20. let me repeat, yama is 16 and tsukki is 20. along with the other tags you see non-graphic smut, yes, they will fuck; it's more for character development than anything. i just want to put the correct warning and tags, nobody is getting raped!!! AGAIN there will be no rape, i just think the dubious consent warning is needed, because we all know a 16 year old can not give actual consent!!! well, they can, but i'm sure you understand what i mean. i don't want people feeling uncomfortable with the age gap, but to be clear *tsukki and yama's relationship is not ever going to be an official thing* please take this message as you will, i know some people will find the age gap wrong and i agree and in no way shape or form think a legal adult should have a sexual or romantic relationship with a minor. 
> 
> — KILLIE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist ;
> 
> Crush by Cigarettes After Sex 
> 
> Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood 
> 
> Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood
> 
> Are You Bored Yet by Wallows 
> 
> Scrawny by Wallows 
> 
> Talk to Me by Cavetown 
> 
> Just Add Water by Cavetown 
> 
> 888 by Cavetown 
> 
> Bandaids by Keshi
> 
> Skeletons by Keshi
> 
> Living Island by Pogo 
> 
> What You Know by Two Doors Cinema Club
> 
> Grind Me Down by Lilianna Wilde [Jawster Remix]
> 
> ily (i love you baby) by Surf Mesa (ft. Emilee) 
> 
> Tired by Beabadoobee
> 
> Ropes by Scott James 
> 
> This is a Love Song, Not a Sad Song by Lonely$adboy

* * *

It was on the tip of his tongue, pressing right on his lips. The other end of the phone sighed; Tsukishima could almost feel the breath against his ear.

“Can I help you?” Satsujin snapped, Tsukishima went quiet, his eyes flickered across the many screens. The grainy images clearly showed the boy waltzing around the house; it was so dark he almost looked like a shadow.

“Did you—”

“Huh?” Satsujin shuffled on the side, papers sliding against papers. His voice sounded airy, deep, as if he just smoked a pack of cigarettes.

“Is his door locked?” Tsukishima worried his bottom lip; he moved the mouse over to the screen on the far left. It was a grainy black and white picture of what Tsukishima briefly remembered as the living room.

Satsujin sighed, Tsukishima heard the creak of a chair, “Oh Kei.” Another deep breath, this one sounded more strangled, “Yes, of course it’s locked. Is something that matter?” Another strangled breath.

“No, no.” Tsukishima leaned back, the chair was as uncomfortable as when he first sat down. “Sorry for bothering you.”

Another strangled breath, “I have a meeting I need to attend.” Satsujin sounded off, the end of his sentence cut off with the line ending. Tsukishima looked down at the phone in his hand, he leaned back. The house was too quiet. There we no creaks of the wood, no steps. It was quiet, it was suffocating.

Tsukishima sat up; the room was spinning. It was too quiet, the curtains were clipped shut, the sun was long gone. It was dark and it was quiet, and the walls were green. Tsukishima struggled to breathe, struggled to swallow the mouthful of saliva. The room was spinning, his mind was spinning, and then it stopped. His breath trapped in his throat and shaky hands, soft fingertips running through his hair. He missed them, _‘but I’m right here’_ , fingertips running across his skin.

It was hot, their fingertips were hot, lighting small flames with every drag of their fingers. Tsukishima sucked in a deep breath, holding it in his cheeks. Brown hair trapped in his eyes, hands dragging across his chest. I’m right here. He exhaled, a new fire burning against his cheeks. Their fingers stayed there, oil to a flame, pressing, digging into the flesh.

_“I’m right here.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @skoope isn't it funny how both our exes are talking shit about us.


End file.
